


Stray

by cest_what



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Gen, Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cest_what/pseuds/cest_what
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boys in the rain, with cuddling and kittens. Don't say you weren't warned, okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [LJ](http://cest-what.livejournal.com/17863.html) February 2009.

Brendon was aware that chucking his guitar at the couch and slamming out of the house into the rain had maybe been an over-reaction.

He hugged his jacket around him and walked more quickly, angrily shaking rain drops off his eye lashes. He just – they _knew_ not to get at him when he'd just had one of fucking _those_ phone conversations with his family, and they – he was fucking not in the mood to be lectured because he was getting the energy all wrong in his singing. Which, what the fuck, Ross? Energy? There was fucking nobody in the world less qualified to talk about goddamned performance energy.

The rain was coming down harder. Or maybe Brendon was more aware of it than he'd been when he stormed out. He kicked at a beer bottle caught in the gutter, the run-off swirling around it. Then he spun around and kicked it again, hard enough to knock it out of the gutter and against a brick wall, where it clanged and spun away.

He dropped his head, breathing hard.

The rain was making his fringe hang heavy in his eyes. It was also cooling him down. Rainwater trickled down his neck into his collar, and he hugged his arms around the wet-slippery folds of his jacket. Then he lifted his head, closing his eyes and letting the rain fall on his face.

Fuck.

He turned around, slowly, and gave a look back down the street. The house was out of sight, but they'd come after him once they'd messed around finding umbrellas and Ryan's ridiculous blue old-man raincoat.

Brendon thought he should probably save them the trouble. He was feeling calm enough to not throw things, now, at least.

The phone call was sort of catching up to him all over again, though. There was a melancholy seeping into him, harder to shake than the anger.

He drifted a bit further down the street, hunching down into his collar. He crossed to the other side of the street a couple of times, idly kicking at sodden bits of newspaper and soda cans. He ended up walking close enough to the gutter that he could run his fingers over the rough surface of the facing brick wall. It was the back of a movie theatre, he thought – he wasn't sure. The brick was wet, and it flaked off in little crumbles in his hand.

The abandoned newspaper in the road ahead of him was moving.

Brendon looked at it for a moment, then dropped down onto his haunches. He prodded at the paper. It mewled – a lost little sound. Brendon jumped. Feeling like an idiot, he reached out again and pushed the paper back more carefully.

A very small, very wet kitten hissed at him, shuffling back into the damp shelter of the newspaper.

"Oh. Oh, hey," Brendon said. "Hey, no."

The kitten hissed again when he offered his hand to it, but it was too draggled and miserable to back up very far. Brendon dropped his knees out of the crouch and folded them, sitting down against the edge of the gutter. He held his hand out to the kitten until it stopped backing away. It still shivered violently when he pushed his fingers further to scritch it on the head. He carefully picked it up, making it shiver again and squirm against his hand.

It was a tortoise shell, the short fur slicked down against its body but sticking up in little clumps where it had tried to fluff itself up. It might have been the most pitiful thing Brendon had ever seen, except for the way it was still hissing at him.

Brendon respected that.

"Hey, little guy," he whispered. "Why don't you have a collar?"

He kind of knew the answer to that one, though.

The kitten shivered, squirming in his hands again. He transferred it to one hand, using the other to quickly unzip his jacket. He tucked the kitten inside. It immediately pushed up against the heat of his stomach. It mewled again, a sad little sound, and he reached a hand under his jacket, supporting the small warm body against him.

His jeans were soaking through on his butt, and the rain was still coming down, and this was maybe a bit ridiculous. "Strays should stick together though, right?" he murmured. Then he rolled his eyes at himself, but he kind of still meant it.

He pushed his knees up, resting his head on his folded arms, and closed his eyes. Inside the jacket, the kitten had started to purr in hiccuppy stops and starts.

"Hell, Brendon," somebody said eventually. Brendon looked up, blinking the wet fringe out of his eyes. Ryan squatted down in front of him. Brendon hadn't heard him clomping his way over through the rain. He was wearing the blue raincoat, buttoned up to his neck, but no hat. His hair was already curling in the wet.

"You don't do things half-assed, do you?" Ryan said. He was chewing his bottom lip, and he looked guilty. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Ryan, but Brendon had got good at it.

Brendon pushed his hair off his forehead and laughed softly, the sound coming out hoarse. "It was just ... you know," he said.

Ryan looked at him for a moment more, still chewing on his lip. Then he leaned forward, his knees touching the pavement. He rested his arms on Brendon's shoulders and pressed their foreheads together, the wet locks of his fringe tickling Brendon's eyelashes. "I didn't think – you said you wanted to keep practising after the phone call," he muttered, quiet under the rain. "Sorry. I didn't think."

Brendon let out his breath in a shudder against Ryan's cheek. Ryan crinkled his nose, vaguely hilariously. Brendon giggled and moved his head to the side, sliding his nose against Ryan's hair. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I just ... sorry." He laughed. "That was such a fucked trick to pull, storming out into the rain. I'm going to catch TB or some shit and feel like a complete dork."

Ryan grinned, pulling back. He still had one arm resting on Brendon's shoulder for balance. "Not like normal, then," he said, with no inflection. Brendon widened his eyes and pouted – only at about a 4.5 strength; he wasn't feeling all that playful, still – and Ryan grinned, a quick flash. It still startled Brendon, how sweet that sudden smile was.

"Spence and Jon are still trying to find the other umbrella," Ryan said. "Do you wanna –" He put out his hand to help Brendon up. Brendon almost took it before he remembered.

"Oh, uh..." Brendon said. "I kind of..." He tucked his hand under his jacket, where the kitten had picked up steam and was purring continuously now. Ryan's eyebrows rose. "There's a kitten?" Brendon tried.

Ryan just looked at him. "Is that a metaphor?" he asked after a moment.

Brendon snickered. "Dude, I don't want to know what you think kittens are metaphors for."

Ryan looked uncertain. Brendon hesitated, then carefully unzipped his jacket part of the way down. The kitten made a protesting sound, squirming up against his tee-shirt. Ryan leaned close, his hair falling in Brendon's face again.

"Oh my god," Ryan said. He sounded awed. He looked up at Brendon. There was that sweet, startling smile again. "There's a kitten. Where the fuck did you get a kitten?" His eyes had already dropped back to the ball of fur curled up in the shadowed interior of Brendon's jacket. Ryan brushed the back of his fingers against the outside of the jacket, nudging the warm wriggling body through the red acrylic.

"He was in the street," Brendon said. "He didn't have a collar." He smiled at Ryan, letting it widen when Ryan glanced up and smiled back. "I'm going to call him Bowie," Brendon said, deciding it on the spot.

"Yeah?" Ryan dropped his hand to the ground, awkwardly supporting himself while he sat down against the rough brick wall. He leaned over Brendon's shoulder. "I can hear him purring," he observed, stretching his knee out over Brendon's knee. Brendon shifted to accommodate him.

When Jon and Spencer turned up they were both under the one umbrella. They'd obviously given up on finding the other one. It wasn't even raining much anymore – or it didn't seem like it if you were already completely wet. Jon and Spencer gave the two of them fairly mystified looks when they splashed up to find both of them sitting against the gutter in the rain, still.

"Brendon has a kitten," Ryan said, half greeting and half explanation.

Jon's eyes lit up and he immediately dropped onto his knees, pushing at Brendon's protective hand cradled against his jacket. "Let me see."

Spencer looked as though he was trying not to do the same. "You're sitting in the _gutter_," he said.

Brendon looked up at him through his fringe. "His name's Bowie," he said, his eyes widening. "He's asleep. He's purring. I can't _move_ him, Smith."

Jon was already settled cross-legged, coaxing Bowie to bat at his finger from inside the opened neck of Brendon's jacket. Brendon giggled as Bowie stretched out in a yawn, whiskers tickling Brendon's chin. Jon gave the kitten a besotted look and tried to encourage it to do it again.

"My band, ladies and gentlemen," Spencer said, to nobody. Ran rolled his eyes at him, and Spencer rolled his own back but folded up the umbrella he was carrying. Then he toed at Brendon's knee, making him move over so that Spencer could lower himself down next to him. Jon gave him a happy look. "Bowie, Spence," he said.

Spencer leaned in against Brendon's shoulder, watching the kitten. It almost wasn't raining at all, now, and the kitten was beginning to venture further out of the shelter of the jacket. Its fur was still damp, but it was starting to fluff up properly.

Spencer was warm and solid pressed up against Brendon's side, the fingers he'd linked with Ryan's resting against Brendon's neck. Ryan's feet were tucked up under Jon's jeans-clad knee out in front, and his hair was still tickling Brendon's cheek as he leaned over.

"I can't believe you stormed off and found a kitten in the rain," Spencer said quietly.

"An _awesome_ kitten," Jon corrected.

Brendon laughed, stupid and catching in his throat again. "I can't believe you all sat down in the rain with my kitten."

Ryan just rolled his eyes at him, and Brendon bit his lip around a grin, because. Well, yeah.

Obviously.


End file.
